


The Leech Will Heal You (Or Suck Your Bones Dry)

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Everybody Lives, Gen, Gray and Gray Morality, Politics, Post-Canon, some allusions to Kreia/Exile relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: The wound knows best how to heal itself. Onderon, on the other hand, needs an advice.





	The Leech Will Heal You (Or Suck Your Bones Dry)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/gifts).



 

Kreia considered Meetra her greatest weakness. She didn’t kill her when she had a chance – she didn’t want to kill her. She protected her. Let her talent grow. One could even say she was jealous about her, jealous enough to kill other, ah, suitors. From a certain point of view those Jedi Masters were nothing else, right?

She even had an affectionate nickname for Meetra, didn’t she? The wound in the Force – a little too long and unhandy in bed, yes, but also such a glorious, awe-inspiring title. And Meetra had her own nickname for her, too, for “Kreia” was just another one in a long line of false names, false identities. And yet, and yet... At some point, “Darth Traya” became “Kreia” in her own head, too.

And now they were both recreating the Jedi Order. Basically, living together. With a bunch of children. Really, it was almost like a stable, old marriage at this point.

Ah, yes, their disciples were all adults, from a certain, legal point of view. They acted so immaturely, though, that Kreia didn’t bother treating them as ones. Meetra, at least, had the years at the top of the military command under her belt, even if said command was given to her by the Jedi of the past, sheltered from reality. At least in the middle of politics and battle, Meetra knew how to act – efficiently. Ruthlessly. There still were some lingering shadows of Jedi philosophy in her, of course, impulsive compassion, endless, useless sympathy staying her hand, blurring her vision, but she was the wound in the Force – Kreia supposed it was in a wound’s nature to part two sides of the body, separate skin from flesh, flesh from bone, blood from veins.

It parted, divided, separated – but the wound itself always touched both. That was where you could find the true balance, in this line between, showing the true nature of things, slicing through the layers. Meetra never quite got it or perhaps just preferred to pretend she didn’t. Preferred to imagine that _the universe_ , life, the Force, something, could do better, be better.

Nothing could. Nothing could be better than her.

But, ah, perhaps it was Kreia’s... sentiment speaking, clouding her judgement. It didn’t matter in the end. Feelings, even the foolish ones, were the part of the universe, too.

And so she had stayed in this new Academy of Meetra. She’d withstood the suspicious glances of her so called disciples – companions, allies, tools, stones from which the future would be carved – with pleasure. She’d fed on their emotions, their jealously, their rage, their confusion, their betrayal, and ah, what a pleasant meal it was.

By now it seemed they all worked in some smooth, mostly conflict-less mode. A shame – Kreia loved good tension – but the necessary one. Still, throwing a comment here and there couldn’t hurt... Couldn’t hurt the future, that was. It definitely did hurt some fragile egos or these ridiculous senses of right and wrong.

‘What, new furniture? Isn’t is a little vain, to presume you’re worth of sitting on an unbroken chair, Mical?’, ‘It’s dirty, you say, Brianna. Well, where does the border between “dirty” and “clean” lie, strictly speaking? Can you give me a straight answer? Ah, you cannot? Then perhaps you shouldn’t be whining so much... Or just try wearing something other than white. It helps, too.’, ‘I learned a new Force technique, Atton, it allows me to mute all voices of foolishness, so they don’t distract me from my Force-watching... In the future, please, use sign language if you want to ask me to pass you the butter at the table.’

Meetra just shook her head at this. Sometimes tried exasperated “Kreia!”, sometimes added that she regretted not leaving her on that damn Malachor, that she was certain giving money to beggars, helping children in finding their toys and collecting some parts for local mechanics would, in time, balance in her soul that one act of the Dark Side.

‘They would,’ Kreia would agree easily. ‘See? You’re starting to really get it. In the actual, ever-flowing life, there are no absolutes.’

 

 

It was the first step in them rebuilding the Order’s image, prestige and importance. That much, even Kreia agreed with. A ruler of the not so small planetary system asking them to come and be the advisors – the judges – in their political matters! Exactly like before the war.

Said ruler still sat on her throne thanks to Meetra’s personal intervention and therefore had some, ah, personal ties and reasons to ask for her help – well, that little fact would be omitted in the briefing the droids would send to the main galaxy news outlets. Meetra’s involvement in Onderon’s business wasn’t exactly a secret, of course, definitely not on the planet itself, but the galaxy’s public opinion had a rather short memory and Onderon wasn’t even situated in the Core.

Still...

‘Are you sure you want to take Atton with us?’ Kreia’s hand trembled on the armchair. How she hated this fool! ‘Mical, for all his naivety, is more fitted for a counsellor’s path.’

‘He definitely is.’ Meetra sank into the pilot chair. A strand of her hair kept falling into her eyes. ‘But there’s no danger of Mical blowing the whole Academy up when we’re away.  I can’t say the same about Atton.’

 

 

There was a long line of soldiers and beast warriors saluting them at the airport. And at the city gate. And on the streets. Basically, their whole way to the palace they were accompanied by soldiers, standing at attention, unnaturally silent beasts and the crowd lurking from behind them.

‘I could get used to _this_ ,’ Atton murmured. Meetra shot him a glance. Kreia would gladly comment, but ah, she was, theoretically, in her “I muted all fools” phase again.

‘It’s an honour to see you, _Jedi_ Master.’ Well, Queen Talia’s smile remained the same, perhaps even got brighter. Interesting.

Or just normal. The civil war had ended. The Republic she had allied her planet with remained more or less victorious. Reclaiming the love of all her people went, according to all sources, relatively well. Smoothly.

The Republic had sent them a lot of money – officially, as a sign of gratitude for their help on Telos – for propaganda moves, after all. Kreia had heard about weeks-long celebrations, during which the tables, heavy from food, were put on the streets and all the citizens were given new robes. She had heard about special gifts for every new-born girl which had been named “Talia” and every new-born boy whose parents had been clever enough to name him “Oron”. People full of the Republic’s money – and also, as far as Kreia understood, the Republic’s food and materials, and culture, being brought to them in spades and with big discounts. Everything for the new ally of the Republic.

Her prophecy was unfolding before her eyes. Not that it mattered. Onderon, for all its important ties to the Sith – The Force – bloodlines, was just one planet in the ocean of them. In history, hundreds of cultures bloomed and then got lost and forgotten, melted in the bigger pot. Sometimes they re-emerged. Sometimes they didn’t. Such was the way of life. Meetra had made her choice – Kreia might advise her on them, but would not... interfere, never in broad daylight. The wound knew best how to heal itself, how long it should bleed, which way it should scar.

But if, per chance, there was a Wookie standing in the shadows, far away from them, watching – them, too, but mostly the movements of the old resistance members and the soldiers previously tied to general Vaklu – then, well... What Meetra didn’t know, couldn’t hurt h– deepen the wound. Change her mind. It could only change the threads of the Force, of the life and the politics around them, transform the parted skin, strengthen the exposed bone.

 

 

The welcome celebrations lasted for three days already. Atton claimed there were the three happiest days of his life – and for once Kreia could quite agree, if she would deign to speak with him. He was happy here, right that. Revered, adored, loved, all his past deeds forgotten or just considered unimportant.

Meetra, on the other hand, was restless. She called the Academy a few times a day. Spoke with her contacts on Onderon. Started planning an expedition to Dxun. Spent time in the Royal Library, consuming loads and loads of the half-forgotten texts.

The Sith knowledge, Nadd’s legacy, yes. The fact that Meetra wasn’t outright denying it, was willing to search for some useful information about the enemy and The Force – for the grain of truth – amongst them, made Kreia’s heart suspiciously, ridiculously warm. “You taught her well,” she kept telling herself, “the new Jedi Order will be stronger for it; the future is brighter with your light,” but she knew it wasn’t the reason. Well, not the only one. She just didn’t want to name the other one yet, and this, this was the weakness she abhorred.

But she _knew_ the name, right? She might avoid using it, but she _knew_ it and didn’t fool herself completely with some cheap tricks, like playing Pazaak games in her mind. That counted for something, too.

 

 

Meetra was restless and more and more suspicious. What if the enemies of the Jedi Order would use her visit – longer and longer – on the Onderon to strike? What if it had been their plot all along? Or, perhaps, the whisper of her ancestors’ in Queen Talia’s ear, not unlike with Atris? Or something simpler, like the revenge for her advisor’s, Master Kavar’s, death?

‘Oh, yes, the revenge’s a dish best served cold.’ Atton waved a fork with a big slice of dinner meat, definitely not served cold, practically _impaled_ on it. Barbaric. ‘So, what are they trying to accomplish? Make us die from overeating? Fatten us up nicely, then boil alive and eat on the last day of the feast?’

‘Did you do this often, Atton? You know, in the glorious days of your past?’ Kreia snapped, finally. Pretending she didn’t hear him was nice, but actually making him shut up – much nicer.

Meetra threw them both a glance, but didn’t say a word. Which was an ill omen, indeed. Her resolve was shaking; she was, once again, falling down the spiral of indecisions, “ifs” and “but-s”.

Kreia sighed mentally and grabbed Meetra’s wrist under the table. Squeezed gently. A reminder that she was here to support and guide her.

Then she sent a little lightning out of her fingertips. Almost a pleasuring one – _almost._ Reminder that Darth Traya was here, too, to do the guidance her way.

 

 

‘I’m honoured by your invitation, Your Majesty, and I’m enjoying myself immensely, but I had the impression you sought my advice?’ Meetra bowed her head, minimally. ‘I can’t help you, no matter how much I wish to, if I don’t know the problem.’

The Queen’s face clouded over. She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes – the very picture of displeasure. Neither Meetra, nor Kreia – or Atton even – cared, and after a moment the queen gestured for the guards to leave the room.

‘It’s a delicate matter,’ she started. ‘One I’d prefer to never arouse, to be honest...’

‘Yes, we suspect so much already.’ Oh, Meetra could be blunt when she wanted to; and she knew how to change between tones of a conversation wonderfully. ‘After all, you asked for the Jedi, a neutral party, not trusting your own, local councillors. And yet you have been avoiding it entirely for days. A clear sign you’re uncomfortable, Your Majesty. But, as we know, problems don’t tend to become easier when we neglect them. On the contrary, I’d say. And isn’t your – our shared duty as the leaders to solve the problems for your people?’

‘Of course. I knew you would understand, Master.’ Oh, this smile of the Queen was more like the ones Kreia remembered; small, half-hidden, suggesting a bond where there was none. And then a long silence, broken with: ‘I have no children. Yet.’

Silence again. Kreia was getting irritated. But this time, the presence of fools proved to be a blessing. They always did well as cannon fodder and a shield for generals, after all.

‘And? How can I – I mean, we – be of assistance, Your Majesty?’

Queen Talia trembled with anger. Ha. Things just got more interesting.

‘I don’t need assistance with this matter. What I need is to make a decision he decision.’

‘About...?’ Meetra, again.

‘About Vaklu’s children, of course.’

Ah. _Ah_. A decision, indeed.

‘It would be easiest to kill them, of course. I am young – I will have children in the future. Enough to stabilise the dynasty. There’s no need to limit ourselves in this regards, not now, when we’re no longer under the influence of our... ancient traditions. Although Vaklu’s recent case proves that, perhaps, there is some wisdoms in them.’

‘You mean that, unlike most of the galaxy’s dynasties and noble families, you prefer to limit the number of the royal members... even though it might endanger the existence of the royal house... because the Dark Side’s influence made you all pretty keen on killing each other. And every living family member is a bigger threat to your dynasty’s survival than a chance plague killing the only heir might be, right? I’m just a general, Your Majesty. When talking to me, one needs to be blunt, I’m afraid. I apologise for the inconvenience.’

‘A chance plague?’ Queen laughed. ‘Oh. Whatever I think about my... more controversial ancestors, no change plague, no stray bullet, no _accidental anything_ would ever kill the descendants of Freedon Nadd.’

Why, because the Force would not allow it? Spoken like a true Sith, Kreia thought, amused. But even she couldn’t be certain if there was actual arrogance in Talia’s words. Perhaps Her Majesty just did as Meetra’d asked. Stopped pretending.

‘But Vaklu’s children killing you or yours wouldn’t be an accident, right?’ Meetra rose her eyebrows. ‘Not to mention that his political supporters would be very glad to use them. Poor little orphans... Wait, actually, how old are they?’

‘Not old enough to drag them to court and sentence them for compliance and taking part in the coup, unfortunately.’

‘Oh,’ hummed Kreia. Her amusement just rose. ‘So “children” indeed. Under ten, I presume.’

‘The youngest one can barely walk.’ The Queen’s gaze escaped to the corner of the room, for a second. ‘You see, now, Master, how... unfortunate for my image and the fragile peace here any sort of accident befalling them would be. And peace is crucial for my people. After all, their survived the recen—’

‘I asked you for bluntness, Your Majesty. Please. Yes, I see how orchestrating the killing of Vaklu’s children, especially after making the man himself a martyr – and I warned you against it – could threaten the development of Onderon, the peace, and your rule.’

‘And my rule is what brought the Onderon to the Republic.’

‘And helped us against the Sith forces. I’m grateful.’ Meetra blinked. ‘Oh. Should I presume you want me to take the problem out of your hands, Your Majesty? Your people won’t believe it either—’

‘I hoped that, perhaps, you could help me find some less... risky solutions. Onderon saw enough bloodshed in its history. Whatever you think of me, Master, I want to spare my people that. I _wish_ to spare my people blood on their streets and hands. That’s why I killed Vaklu, to not have to kill all his supporters and... And to stop the civil war before it started for good.’

‘He was a descendant of Freedon Nadd, too,’ admitted Kreia. Slowly.

Meetra shot her a sharp glance.

‘If their mother is alive, you might be able to convince her to support you. A nice picture of forgiveness. A reunited family, just like Onderon is reunited. And a more or less formal homage would weakened their hypothetical claims to the crown. Although it wouldn’t make them impossible. People broke their words for far less than a kingdom.’

‘That’s what some of my advisors told me. Of course, I’d still be the one responsible for their father’s death... But it’s not something good... upbringing... Ah, yes, the bluntness. It’s not something good indoctrination couldn’t help with. They’re still young enough. They might be taught to love me.’

‘If their mother agrees,’ added Kreia, smoothly. ‘It would be hard to overcome her influence. And killing her—‘

‘—I would have to kill the children, too, then, I am aware. She might agree, though. She wants her kids to live and she’s not stupid. We already replaced all of her servants. Of course, if it came to that, they would make her – their – death easy and honourable, as the death of our house should be.’

‘And you will kill a few people over it, I presume,’ Atton almost sighed. ‘Yeah. That’s how we would do it, too. Back in the... in the old days.’

‘No need to diminish your own glory and suggest a mere agent can kill those of royal blood. I’d think about this aspect, too, Your Majesty.’ Meetra met her eyes. ‘Let me tell you, as a general, not a Jedi Master – the revolution’s seeds were planted with much less than servants rising their hands against the nobles, no matter who ordered them to do so. You might think Freedon Nadd’s legacy will protect you... But the Sith of old fell, didn’t they?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to avoid.’

Atton snorted. ‘Funny, for a second I though you might be trying to avoid killing children. I mean, no, I didn’t. Kreia likes to call me a fool, but you know, I like to call her an old witch, so—‘

‘You may adopt them, You Majesty.’ Meetra was throwing an idea after possibility instead of taking charge and having the final word; Kreia didn’t like it, but perhaps Meetra was just... checking her options, biding her time, while thinking about the solution. Or, perhaps, she was just playing with them all, Keira’s beloved wild card. ‘Or even one of them, the youngest one, I presume. This should placate Vaklu’s supporters, too. And the rest of his family would have no reason to attack you. Their would attack their own rights to the throne.’

‘I’m still young,’ repeated the Queen. ‘I’ll have my own children. I won’t rob them of their rights.’

‘Well, so you will change the decision later. Or just leave the matter in the air for a few decades. It would still allow you to forge some bond with Vaklu’s kids. And when Onderon’s situation is stable and your righteous rule unshakable, making decisions will be easier. Even the unpopular ones. Is Vaklu’s youngest kid named “Oron” or “Galia”? I suspect he might want to go for this symbol and if so, you could use it now.’

Talia smiled, showing her all teeth. It reminded Kreia of Dxun beasts. Oh, Onderon, Onderon, your wildlife was the fiercest in the whole galaxy, indeed.

‘You’re wise and cunning, _general_. She’s named Galia, of course. I think you might not like the name of his oldest son so much, though.’

Meetra rolled her eyes. ‘Let me guess, it’s “Freddon”?’

‘I like it. It sounds almost like “Atton”, don’t you think? Perhaps _I_ should adopt them. Teach them how to make an honest living as a smuggler or other space criminal. Definitely cleaner than politics.’

If only there was a real way to mute all the fools’ talking... Wait. There was a... pull in the Force. The change in the tides. The future which had unfolded so clearly before Kreia’s sight months ago, now became blurred again. Like trying to look into deep, dirty water. Even if you pushed the duckweed aside, you would meet only the darkness.

Unlike the future, Meetra became brighter. ‘See, Your Majesty? That’s why I always take him with me. Yes, perhaps that’s what we ought to do. Vaklu's children are of the royal blood. The legacy of Freddon Nadd runs in their veins, whether they use the Force in a way we associate with the Force-users or not. The Force exists in many forms and all that. Power does, too. And power needs control. And the new Jedi Order needs students.’

‘And prestige,’ hummed Kreia; she might hate short-sighted, naive kindness, but this... This seemed different. ‘And what more prestigious than students from a royal family? Nadd’s descendants, to boot? What prettier triumph of the Jedi philosophy over the Sith?’

Queen Talia actually looked relieved. Maybe she really was tired of all the bloodshed. Maybe she was just happy that somebody took the decisions out of her hands.

‘And I heard stories about the Jedi’s great abilities to... change and calm, and sharpen one’s mind.’ She smiled sweetly.

‘Indoctrinate.’ Atton’s lips were pursed. He seemed to be the only person in the room not liking the new proposition. ‘The Sith were good at that, too. But, yes, Your Majesty, there’s a possibility we will be able to return your nephews to you as loyal and useful servants.’

‘And if not, at least they will be far away from you and Onderon. None of your enemies will be able to use a pair of monks who spent their whole lives off the planet.’ Meetra shrugged. ‘No cultural ties, no understanding of its people, no occasions to win their love... And they will be alive, Your Majesty. No more blood, just as you _wish_ for Onderon.’

Oh, no more blood, indeed. The water became clear, and Kreia saw the depth of the future – for the future, just like the past, had its depth, not its “far, far distance” – again. Changed from her last vision, yes, but that was exactly Meetra’s purpose. The wild Pazaak card, constantly transforming. The wound always knew best how to heal... And this was happening on Onderon, too.

Queen Talia, so beautiful, so fierce, so proud. She would have the love of her people, of her citizens as a good monarch should – but never of her _children_ , for she would not bear them. Some would say it was Vaklu’s or his wife’s curse. Some might say it was the punishment of Nadd himself, for betraying his path, for Onderon ultimately siding with the Republic and the Jedi Order. She would have to recall the children she exiled to a prestigious, highly-admired, faraway fate, she would recall them, claim their servitude as her people and yet welcome them with honours due to the future rulers – those three distant, collected young people with a foreign accent. Formed to serve, even if their master should have been the galaxy, not just one planet in its ocean.

They would rebuild Onderon’s traditions, as precisely and carefully as only foreigners, afraid of any misunderstanding, of any unwilling rudeness, could. And Onderon would recall its traditions, looking on how Republican – alien – those three would be. And it would stay a part of the Republic, but wouldn’t lose itself, not so completely. Ironic, truly. But also – a balance.

And if to make it happen Kreia would have to... push the tides of the Force, use one of the sacred texts from Talia’s own library, become the part of the scientific expedition to Dxun – in the end, just... make sure that the ghosts of Onderon’s past would get to know about Talia’s transgressions, her selling Nadd’s blood to the _Jedi_ , and would end her own bloodline in retaliation – ah, so be it.

After all, why would Fate entrust one with the ability to see the future, if not to let them control it?

**Author's Note:**

> While it is perhaps the end a little worse for the characters than the canonical Kreia's visions, it's probably the brightest future I can imagine for Onderon.;)
> 
> Thanks to B. for beta! <3


End file.
